ZombieLand
by oO8 Giacente Lolita 8Oo
Summary: Have you ever wondered what it would be like if Spashley were to ever be stuck in the middle of a Zombie epidemic like the one from the film? Meet Ashley, a bad ass, or wanna be bad ass Zombie slayer with a penchant for talking to herself. Then there's Spencer, Ashley's former partner in crime. Can the two settle their differences long enough to survive? Spashley, M- Vio/Lang/Cont
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own South of Nowhere. Or the idea of Zombies, or Zombie Land the film that I kinda based the scenario off of. Yup. That's it, folks.**

**A/N: Because I'm bored and I have a thing for Zombies. And because I wanted an excuse to do something not serious, and make the characters wear tight leather clothing.**

A figure darted out into the deserted three way highway, a streak of shadow along the dark grey asphalt. They turned left to a clump of bushes growing wildly across the side of the road, disappearing from view.

Back where the figure had first appeared, another figure came out, hobbling awkward, but swiftly from the original place we first saw the fleeing figure. It was a Zombie. In long terms, it a human that was infected by a disease that started off as a simple bird flu, turned Mad Cow disease, that turned into what is now known as _influenza zombitica necrosis. _Or the disease that started the huge Zombie epidemic that invested the whole of the world, leaving God knows how many people alive, every one just waiting to get eaten by the Zombies.

Now note, these zombies are still human, technically, although it doesn't seem like it. Zombie Flu basically is a virus that starts to eat at your flesh, causes massive brain damage that appears to cause massive rage, and apparently gives one the mad case of the munchies. Also, like every major STI out there, Zombie Flu is exchanged through body fluids. Let's say that swapping spit with your Undead partner is a bit of a no-no.

Ah, back to the figure. See, that's our hero. She's powerful and beautiful, a perfect killing machine. Decked out in skin tight leather cat suit, AK-47 strapped onto her back, and hand pistols in holsters on either side of her perfectly formed hips. Not to mention the numerous hidden daggers, knives and, yes, a metal spork. Excelling in what she does, she managed to be one of the only healthy humans on the face of the earth. Or at least on the continent, since the United Nations decreed full quarantine of North America.

In case you haven't figured it out yet... that person there, squatting in the bushes there? Looking terrified out of her mind? Wow, do I look bad at this moment. Heh heh, yeah, that's me. Go figure. Ashley Davies, terrified of a Zombie. Hey, man, that thing came out of nowhere. I didn't even realise that thing was looking over my shoulder at the playboy I was reading until he reached over my shoulder and turned the page before I was finished.

Anyway, yeah, as I said, that's me. If you look close enough, you can tell that the leather is genuine, and I stole it out of a retail store, in great condition. You'll also see that I'm alone. Yep, I'm a bit of a loner. You can't trust anyone in ZombieLand. After all, they might be after your guns and ammunition, your food, or even your brains if they ended up becoming infected. It's not a pretty sight. It's happened to me before. My last travel buddy kicked me in the stomach in my sleep and took off with my Hummer and my guns. Pissed, I was.

You'll also note that I'm pretty much talking to myself. Here in ZombieLand, there is practically no one to talk to, as everyone that you were friends with either became infected or they were eaten. Now, I try not to talk to myself, I'm convinced that it means I'm insane, but a girl gets lonely sometimes in a world infested by stinky, smelly, rotting corpses. Well, humans, but you get the drift...

* * *

_**BEFORE**_

I peeked out from behind the trashed SUV, checking to make sure the coast was clear of the still living Undead. Technically, I guess I could call them zombies, and they might as well be dead in this state, but honestly? I've seen healthy humans with worse table manners than most of these creatures. Lately, most of them have heard that I was the last human at least within a ten block radius of Los Angeles. I was hoping to get out of this city, maybe head to San Francisco or Seattle, but so far, non of the vehicles I've tried to jump start started. Like this one.

I kicked the tire angrily and pulled the AK from the back holster attached to my leather suit and fired a few rounds into the side of the car. Like they say, in a world like this, you've got to let off steam sometimes, enjoy the little things.

Satisfied with the barely legible "A" shot into the metal, I turned around and scanned the road for a decent looking vehicle. Most of the cars were already destroyed, windows knocked out, tires slashed, and some of them had the metal stripped from them. One of them looked like it had been steam rolled.

I growled angrily and stalked down the road, making sure that I walked with a slightly dangerous looking swagger in case any zombies were watching. Don't want to go looking easy now.

I crossed a bridge and looked out over the major highway that was recently added that cut the city in two, hoping at least for a decent looking ride. I might be the only one to see it, but it's hard to feel like a bad ass when you're driving a beat up 2009 Prius.

A low groan, a signature of the zombies, who for some reason can't seem to make any other noise, came from behind me, and I grabbed the small knife I kept tucked at the small of my back. I turned my head slowly and spotted a playboy lying on the ground behind. Clearly, I was surprised. It was in pristine collection, one that I had yet to look through, and I'm pretty sure I would have noticed it sitting there.

I looked around in case the zombie happened to be waiting in wait for me to bend over (not that they're _that _smart) and reached down to pick up the magazine. I opened it and I felt my eyebrows reach to the top of my head. Damn, this was a good one.

A hand, wrinkled and decaying, reached over my shoulder and turned the page for me, exposing a whole new sections of tits and fannies to gawk over, before realising that the hand that just helped me actually belonged to that on the Ungrateful Dead. I turned my head slowly and screeched.

The zombie grabbed at his ears on the ground, for they had fallen off, and I took advantage of the situation and booked it. I looked back, and the zombie stared stupidly back at my fleeing figure before he put two and two together and started to make his way after me. I spotted an overgrown tangle of bushes and dived in head first.

The zombie was closing in fast, not as fast as some of the less decayed ones, but pretty quick for one who was missing a foot. As he reached the bush, he began to slow, unsure of where exactly I had disappeared to. I pulled a grenade out of who knows where and popped up in front of him.

"Happy Birthday!" I sang cheerfully, pulling the pin and handing it to him. He held it curiously and tried to put it in his mouth, looking after me as I sped away as far as possible. The small bomb exploded, and bits of zombie brain flew up into the air in a stream of zombie blood, and his decapitated body fell to the ground, still moving. I grimaced and turned away. Zombies were still technically human after all.

The sound of an engine in the distance grabbed my attention, and I glared out down the hallway in it's direction, puzzled.

A bright electric blue Hummer tore down the road, my Hummer, and squealed to a stop nearby, turning into a convenient half-donut. The passenger side opened with a loud bang, and a blonde in a similar suit as mine (though hers was a two piece, something I had realised earlier was a lot easier to do stuff in), but a dark blue, jumped out and army rolled to a stop, military-grade assault rifle at the ready. A small red dot climbed up my torso and up my face, coming to a rest at my forehead.

"Hello, Ashley. Funny to see you alive." The blonde said.

I narrowed my eyes. "And you, Spencer." I spat, moving towards her.

Yep, now I don't mind being lonely.

**A/N: Don't expect this to be a very serious story XD. Of course, there shall be some Spashley, and Zombies, and ass-kicking, but it may or may not be very long, since I don't see this going very far. Enjoy, read more, review more, Lolita out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: There is a little tiny microchip in my brain that is for some reason making me say these things that are called disclaimers. Simply, all I have to do is tell you that I don't own South Of Nowhere, and all is well. Hmph, who knew?**

Spencer stood up straight, taunt stomach muscles exposed from her high-rise leather tank top. Yeah, her's was a two piece suit, durable like mine, but hers was way more provocative than mine. And, might I add, did it accentuate her hotness.

She rested the rifle on her shoulder, a smirk on her features, and beckoned me closer with a manicured finger.

"Damn, Ashley. You look good." She crooned, checking me out.

I flashed a rude hand gesture at her and adjusted my AK-46 in my grasp, making sure the muzzle was pointed at her. "Stole my ride. I want it back." I stated bluntly.

She laughed loudly and obnoxiously (actually it was quite adorable, but I wasn't about to complement the bitch) and walked over to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Aww babe, that isn't the way you greet a _friend_, is it?" She crooned in my ear, running a finger along the length of my gun.

I swatted it away, twisting myself from under her arm. I pointed the gun to her forehead and put my eye to the sight. "Listen, Spence, I really don't want to kill you, but I really want my Hummer back. Damn things my baby." I backed up to where the Hummer sat, motor still running softly.

Instantly, Spencer jumped into action, army rifle pointed to my own forehead. She narrowed her eyes and stepped forward. "Back off, Ash. I'm not afraid to kick a sexy ass if I have to. I stole that thing fair and square."

I opened my mouth to retaliate, but a sharp movement to the right grabbed my attention. From the bushes where I had been hiding previously came a Living Dead, freshly dead by his still normal features, stood up and yawned, stretching his undead limbs with a gruesome pop. Blood leaked from his jaws, probably having just eaten his own tongue. He turned his head and spotted us, deciding to use his undecayed muscles to sprint at us.

Quickly I brought the gun up over Spencer's shoulder and fired a single shot directly to the Zombie's forehead. A spurt of blood streamed out of the Zombie's forehead and he fell to the ground, writhing with zombie pain before he flopped onto his back, arms and legs stiff in the air like a poisoned cockroach. Undead he is no longer.

Attracted by the scent of blood, zombies began to surround their fallen comrade, devouring him in a matter of minutes. Me and Spencer glanced at each other, mouths wide. For zombies to be turning on one another means that the zombie food supply is low. Spencer might as well be the only other human left in the city.

Finished devouring their meal, the zombies turned to us, faces glistening in blood and gore, one of them gnawing on a femur. A rather large zombie ran from the pack, closing in on us quickly. We backed up until l our backs hit the blue vehicle. Spencer rummaged through her pockets, searching for the keys (mine). Before the zombie could reach us, I raised my gun and shot him clean through his face, falling to the ground.

Other zombies started to get up by the time Spencer got the car unlocked, and we clambered inside, shutting the door behind us. Spencer revved the engine and backed up, running over a peck of zombies coming up behind the car. She turned the wheel sharply, facing the rest of the zombies.

The stood there stupidly, staring at the car. She revved the engine again and honked the horn. On of them turned around and ran, while the others kept staring at the vehicle, apparently unbothered by the noise. Spencer rolled her eyes, shifted gears, and sped forward, crashing into them. Body parts flew everywhere, a head bouncing off the front glass. Spencer put the wind shield wipers on, erasing a smudge of blood from the glass.

"That was... eventful," she said, turning to me with a smile. She bounced slightly in her seat and turned on the radio.

I shrugged. "I suppose. I'm almost out of ammunition for my AK-47 though." I frowned. I had grown fond on my gun, and I wasn't exactly willing to part with it so easily.

Spencer turned and looked at the back seat, pulling aside a tarp. "Um... well it looks like I still have some ammo for that gun. I have a Skorpion in there as well." I turned around and felt my mouth drop. The whole back seat was an arsenal of weapons and ammunition, not only firearms but a wide range of knives, short swords and full sized swords as well. On the floor, there was what appeared to be a variety of garden tools and a... is that a mace?

Dude, this girls insane. Where did she even manage to find all those? I looked at her. "Did you rob a gun store?" I questioned, picking up the Skorpion she had pointed out earlier. It was smallish, but looked funny automatic. I tucked it into my belt pocket and turned back around.

"No. Army base. Apparently all the guards and stuff are all zombies now," she grinned, dancing a little. She turned sharply to the left, making me slide over and hit the door. "Oops! She giggled, patting my leg.

I glared at her. "I'm still mad you stole Charles."

She raised a brow. "You call the car Charles? I named it Ashley." She glanced at me slyly from the side.

I snorted and crossed my arms. "Well then. Still mad."

**A/N: Short bit, I know, but I'm a bit tied up right now. See, I'm working on Ad Amor, Ex Mors, which if you haven't read yet, I _highly_ recommend doing so. Many people have praised it. And it's long. And it's number one on my priority list, so it gets updated faster :D Anyway, more Zombie Spashley later. R&R readers!**


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